


A lesson in math

by Alexander_Daeqirelle



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Feelings, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sharing a Bed, There Is Only One Bed, Traveling Together, geralt lying next to jaskier: i hope this doesn't awaken anything in me, yes i love this trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:33:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26139718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_Daeqirelle/pseuds/Alexander_Daeqirelle
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier are traveling together and after so many nights sleeping on the road they decide to spend the night in a tavern. However, they're not the only ones with this idea and the place is rather crowded so they end up sharing a room.Two people, one room, one bed. And a rather obvious solution.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 131





	A lesson in math

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun with this! Hope you like it :)

The sun had already begun to sink below the horizon when the tavern finally came into view. Jaskier breathed an audible sigh of relief. Geralt couldn’t blame him. It had been a rough couple of days. First a storm had destroyed their tents so they had been forced to sleep out in the open, which wouldn’t have been that much of a disaster if the relentless rain that had followed the wind hadn’t rendered their entire food supply inedible overnight. And on top of that they’d been attacked by a group of bandits who were either too blind to notice or too desperate to care about Geralt’s swords. Even though they’d been no match for the Witcher they’d managed to get a few hits in, only adding to their discomfort. A calm night in a tavern with good food, warmth and a soft bed was exactly what they needed.

By the time they reached the door the sun had completely disappeared and the light was following fast. Geralt pulled the door open and they stepped inside, his eyes quickly adjusting to the firelight as he took in the scene before him. The taproom was filled with a large group of men dressed in hunting gear, drinking and laughing, some of them obviously drunk already. They’d probably been brought to these woods by the same monstrous rumors that had attracted Geralt. A few men and women in plainer dress were sitting among them. Probably locals looking for a good story, he mused. The two of them pushed through the crowd towards the bar where Geralt approached the barkeep and supposed owner of the place.

“My friend and I would like a hot meal and a room for tonight,” he requested.

“That can be arranged,” the man said politely. “I’m afraid there’s only one room left though. They,” he nodded towards the hunting party, “ have taken up most of the place. Will that be a problem?”

“No,” Jaskier cut in, surprisingly quickly. “That’s fine, thank you.”

“Alright,” the man nodded. “That’ll be four crowns.” He eyed Jaskier’s expensive clothes and Geralt’s precious swords. “Each.”

Geralt breathed in deeply through his nose in an angry hiss, but before he could demand a fairer price or have an anger attack that would get them kicked out, Jaskier was already talking, his sweetest smile on his face.

“I’m afraid we’re a little short on cash at the moment, my good sir. Got mugged on the road you see, bandits.” He gave the barkeep his ‘you-should-know-how-dangerous-the-roads-are-you-live-here look. “However,” he tapped his lute case, “I could provide some music and entertainment tonight instead.”

The barkeep seemed unconvinced. Geralt, knowing full well the bandits hadn’t stolen anything, intervened.

“Jaskier…”

But before he could say anything else the man’s eyes widened in understanding.

“Jaskier? You’re _Jaskier_? Of course, we’d be honored to have you play in this humble tavern. Why don’t you gentlemen take a seat and I’ll bring you your dinner myself?”

Surprised, Geralt followed Jaskier and their now very gracious host to a table.

“You’re more famous than I thought,” he noted as they sat down. The bard shrugged.

“After you play in a few courts… word travels fast. Thank you,” he said as the man put two damping plates in front of them (rabbit stew Geralt guessed by the smell) as well as two mugs of beer. Jaskier spent their meal talking to everyone within hearing distance and not so subtly winking at the serving girls that walked by increasingly often. Geralt ate in silence, grateful for the lack of attention. The bard had barely finished his plate when the other guests started to cheer and he made his way to a makeshift stage. He took the lute out of its case and carefully tuned it while the crowd waited, buzzing with anticipation. Then he began to sing. Geralt still sat at their table, sipping his beer and letting Jaskier’s voice wash over him as he finally relaxed after their exhausting journey.

Everyone else enthusiastically clapped along to the music. A few of the hunters got to their feet and started dancing, a dance that grew increasingly more aggressive as the beer flowed more steadily. Finally some of the more heavily built men jumped on one of the tables. When after a few tense moments it inevitably gave and sent all men flying to the ground under a roar of laughter, a very upset tavern owner finally ordered everyone out.

The two of them made their way up the stairs to their room and Geralt followed Jaskier inside. He could still hear some drunken singing from behind some of the other doors as he sized up the place. It was a small room with a coatrack and a small closet standing against one wall. Next to the door hung a painting that could barely be considered art and in the corner next to the window stood a sturdy wooden bed. Geralt’s extensive mathematical knowledge couldn’t help but notice that there was only one. And there was two of them. Something about those numbers didn’t add up. His resigned sigh was barely audible as he set his pack on the ground.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” he announced, feeling it was the noble thing to do.

“That’s very noble of you,” Jaskier said straight-faced. They undressed in silence, something that was very uncharacteristic of the bard, but Geralt was too tired to care. He laid down on the ground and crossed his arms over his chest. Jaskier climbed into the bed beside him and blew out the candle.

“Good night Geralt.”

“Good night,” he grumbled back. He closed his eyes but there was something that kept him from falling asleep. A nail dug into one of the bruises on his shoulder and he shifted his body, trying to find a more comfortable position. Now there was a bump in the floor pressing into a sore spot on his lower back. He shifted again. This was ridiculous. He was a Witcher for fuck’s sake. He was used to far more dire circumstances. Any time he slept with a roof over his head counted as a win and now he suddenly had trouble sleeping on a hardwoorden floor? This was absurd, this was… “Fuck,” he grumbled as he rolled over and landed on the remains of the candle, the still-hot wax burning his skin. Jaskier’s sigh coming from his right sounded a lot like a mother watching her children confidently make stupid mistakes.

“Just get in the bed Geralt.”

“But…”

Jaskier pushed himself half upright on one arm. “I can’t keep listening to you continuously injuring yourself. Don’t be an idiot, just get in here.”

He was already lying back down and scooting over towards the wall, ending the conversation.

“Fine.”

He got up and slid under the covers, lying on his side to preserve some distance between them. Still he was very aware of Jaskier’s body mere inches away. Closer even, with every intake of breath. It would be so each to reach out and… what was he thinking? Geralt sighed and closed his eyes. He needed sleep more than he thought. That was surely the reason for these confusing thoughts. He just needed to rest. He pulled the blanket a little closer and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Geralt slowly blinked himself awake. Their small room was full of light; the sun must’ve been up for a while. He frowned a little. That was odd. He usually woke at first light. Though he had to admit he’d slept well tonight and that his bed was very comfortable. These blankets were nice and warm and soft and… not blankets at all.

Geralt looked down in shock to find that he was lying on his back and that at some point during the night Jaskier had rolled over and snuggled up to him. His face and body were pressed against his side, his arm draped over Geralt’s chest. He was still asleep. His tousled hair hung into his eyes and his nightshirt was crumpled and had slipped off his shoulder, revealing the bare skin beneath. He looked beautiful.

Geralt found himself running his hand through Jaskier’s hair before he even knew what he was doing. When he caught himself he panicked and quickly pulled away, the sudden motion waking the bard up. He looked up and gave Geralt a sleepy but cheerful grin.

“Good morning!” He didn’t at all seem surprised to find himself lying practically in Geralt’s arms. He yawned and rubbed his eyes against the light, still not moving away.

“Good lord, what’s the time? I hope we didn’t miss breakfast.” Geralt’s chest eased at the familiarity of the comment after all the unfamiliar things happening this night. Jaskier was still dependently annoying.

“You’ll be fine,” he grumbled and looked down at his friend. Who was still looking up at him. Their eyes met and the knot in Geralt’s chest tightened again. Why was this happening now? He’d looked into those sweet grey eyes before. This was not supposed to be anything new. But there was a look in those eyes that he had never seen before. And Jaskier was still touching him. Something passed between them in that moment and Geralt let out an unsteady breath. Jaskier leaned forward and Geralt panicked again. He didn’t really want to move but he also wasn’t sure he was ready for what Jaskier was about to do.

When a crash came downstairs, followed by loud screams startling them both, he took the opportunity to banish all thoughts far away, instead leaping out of the bed and grabbing one of his swords. He was downstairs in an instant, ready to face whatever intruder dared to cross his path, only to find the tavern owner and one of the men from last night arguing over who was to pay for the broken table (and some freshly broken bottles).

He let out a sigh before he lowered his sword, turned around and went back up the stairs. Jaskier had gotten up and was already packing his things. He looked up when Geralt came in.

“What happened?”

“A stupid argument between two of the men,” he answered, setting his sword down and following Jaskier’s example. “Maybe we should have breakfast on the road before this turns into any more of a fight.”

“Sure,” Jaskier said, but his voice sounded strangely controlled. They packed the rest of their things in silence and then headed down to the kitchen to take a few sandwiches and refill their water supply. Jaskier said a few goodbyes and they left, continuing their journey.

The first ten minutes were spent in silence, but when he was done eating Jaskier broached the subject.

Maybe we should talk? About what happened this morning? Or almost happened this morning?” His voice was a mix between hopeful and insecure.

Geralt grumbled his signature “hmm no” and subconsciously picked up the pace. He wasn’t going to run away from this, not really. They probably did need to talk. But maybe, maybe he just needed some time to figure out what exactly he was feeling first.


End file.
